Bait and Switch
by PurpleMoon3
Summary: Lucifer's greatest sin was pride. After millennia in the Cage, did he really think Gabriel wouldn't learn anything new?
1. Bait and Switch

**Bait and Switch**

**A Supernatural/Thor Crossover**

**Disclaimer: Supernatural goes to the CW. Thor goes to Marvel and minions.**

**Summary: Lucifer's greatest sin was pride. After millennia in the Cage, did he really think Gabriel wouldn't learn anything new?**

**A/N- In this reality Loki already knew he wasn't Aesir due to Gabriel, so he didn't have an identity crisis. He's still pissed at Odin, though, for being a douche about it and not telling him, then going into convenient Odinsleep when he finally has the opportunity to confront him about it.**

* * *

><p>Even with his vessel falling apart, his brother is just as beautiful as Gabriel remembers. He shines out from the battered meat suit, Grace and Power, like the most wondrous butterfly breaking out of a weather beaten cocoon. Any other angel, except perhaps Micheal and Raphael, would find themselves humbled by it. They would take knee and prostrate themselves crying in supplication to the light.<p>

But none of them walked with Father. It's sad that so few of his siblings know, but that's faith for you, so when they look at Lucifer they don't see that the light isn't greatness. It is Sin. Hubris, Lucifer's greatest flaw, wrapped around the older angel as a shining breastplate of denial, and it makes Gabriel want to puke. He wonders what happened to the big brother that taught him to fly, that walked with him through the garden and said _these are all Father's creatures, to be cherished and protected. Will you do that, little brother? Will you help me?_

So what makes humanity so different from the lion and the lamb and the dolphin? Broken and flawed? Maybe, but weren't they all? Only God was perfect. Gabriel held back a snort of derision as he crept toward Lucifer's back, grace nervously pulling at the concealing threads of magic that have become more familiar to him than his old, winged form.

"Brother," Lucifer says with a sigh, but there is no real regret in it. His brother is just going through the motions as he looks over Gabriel's double. "Don't make me do this."

His double, one who is more a brother to Gabriel than Lucifer or Micheal ever were -At this point Gabriel doesn't need a reason to shank Heaven's General, apocalypse or no apocalypse.- gives Lucifer a pitying smirk. "No one makes us do anything." And the copy flips the short blade in his hands, squaring his shoulders and playing the determined puppy to the hilt. Gabriel couldn't have done it better.

"I know you think you're doing the right thing, Gabriel." Lucifer continues as Gabriel raises his own blade far higher than necessary, because when it all comes down to it nothing sells the act better than dramatics. "But I know where your heart truly lies."

And Lucifer spins around, completely ignoring the Gabriel in front of him, and catches real Gabriel's hand in a move that is made fluid by countless years -thousands upon thousands- of drills and practice. They are soldiers, and Gabriel winces with shock and true disbelief as his brother twists his arm around and stabs him in the chest. Even though they were fighting, despite all the death he has witnessed, a part of Gabriel still believed that Lucifer, his big brother, would spare him. Walk away. Dump the irritating little brother in a time out, like Micheal had done to Lucifer himself all those years ago.

"Here."

There's a silvery sword piercing his heart, the very center of his grace, and Gabriel suddenly feels a crushing weight that he had happily ignored for the past two thousand or so odd years. Over Lucifer's shoulder, his double shares with him a look of surprise -even _he_ hadn't expected such familial brutality- before a sad understanding fills his eyes.

Lucifer watches, smug, as Gabriel sags in place. The sword in his chest is the only thing keeping him balanced. The Messenger forces himself to focus past the pain and his flaring grace that longs to push the offending weapon out and begin healing the damage. "Amateur hocus pocus. Don't forget, you learned all your tricks from me, little brother." He jerks the blade out, and Gabriel falls back, straining to suck in a breath.

Lucifer's biggest flaw was pride; his belief in the infallibility of himself. Gabriel marvels at the fact Lucifer thinks he's just been sitting on his ass all these years, twiddling his thumbs and waiting for daddy to send him on a memo run. Yes, Gabriel is the Messenger. Gabriel is the fastest, and smoothest, the silver tongue of the celestial choirs, but when Dad wanted some humans smote who did he send? When the giants of the old religions went rampaging through creation, who fought them to a stand still? Who cast out the hypocrites and brought low kings? Gabriel had been on the front lines longer than Lucifer could imagine.

Lucifer may have laid the foundations, but Gabriel hadn't stopped there. Gabriel had never stopped learning, never stopped improving himself, because as he was fond of teaching humans _there is always someone better_.

The look on Lucifer's face as Gabriel's sword pierces his back is something sweet. Lucifer's mouth opens wide, yet no scream emerges, until finally he gasps out, "How?"

Gabriel gets up, still woozy, and backs away from his dying brother while dabbing at his own still bleeding chest. The fake blade clatters to the ground as Lucifer turns his head to the double. Slowly, Gabriel's image melts away and the figure holding the angel-killer is tall, taller than Gabriel, with dark hair and piercing green eyes. When he vindictively jerks Gabriel's blade from Lucifer's body he does it such a way that the edge cuts through bone and lung, nearly tearing the Morningstar in two.

With a flash that chars the room, the Light Bringer's soul vanishes into the ether. It's ironic, Gabriel muses. Fire giant with propensity for ice killed by ice giant with propensity for fire.

He still feels a little shaky. The fake he'd used on Lucifer had been much more than a few cans of diet orange slice -had to be, to fool an angel- and he doesn't think he'll be back to his renegade ways for a few days, yet. The trickster carefully cleans Gabriel's blade with conjured flame, burning the blood and viscera from the weapon, and flips it around to offer it handle first to the archangel. Gabriel holds up his hands as if in surrender. He tries to swallow back some throw up and shakes his head. "Nah. That thing can kill me. You keep it."

Loki -because that's who it is, the real, original- Loki blinks at him. He nods, slowly, and slim artist's fingers curl around the blade as though it was the most precious of objects. It is a symbol of trust, the strongest gesture Gabriel can give, and if Gabriel owes anyone that trust it is the being standing before him. They know what it is like to have brothers that constantly outshine you, to be relegated to the shadows, to do the _dirty work_. It is how they met, oh-so-long-ago, on those battlefields of ice.

Loki slips the angel killer into the folds of his robes and comes up beside Gabriel to help support him. Gabriel would have flown out, but his wings can only give a weak tremble and with a twisting step Loki takes them onto the branches of Yggdrasil.

* * *

><p>"Castiel? Son of the Nameless God?" Whispers a sibilant voice that brings Castiel out of his contemplation of the futility of existence. He sits up in his hospital bed and focuses on a man that is not a man. There's enough other left in him for that, at least, and Castiel stiffens as the morphine starts to wear off.<p>

"Pagan."

The pagan god smirks and nods. He's wearing an odd mix of leather, metal, and silk for the current age but it is obviously what he's comfortable in. Dark hair falls around his chin, and in an abstract way Castiel recognizes that there is something about the small god that is strangely appealing. The fallen angel considers what weapons are available to him before deciding that in his current condition if the creature wishes to kill him it would be pathetically simple.

Instead, the pagan sketches a short bow and smiles. "I am Loki Odinson, your brother wanted me to ask how you feel about 'witness protection'."

"My brother?" It appears he won't be dying today. Castiel is surprised. He isn't sure whether it is a pleasant one or not.

"I believe you call him Gabriel."

Castiel has to think about that. Gabriel went missing, and has been presumed dead, for so long. Presumed captured and destroyed by the agents of the Adversary. Instead, he had been hiding out on earth posing as... well, as the being patiently waiting for Castiel's answer. "The apocalypse?" He asks, because he has to know before he makes a choice. He doesn't know how much help he will be without his angel powers, but he is a soldier, and fighting and intrigue are all he knows. He can't run and hide. It isn't his nature. Even if all he can do is stand in the way to buy Sam and Dean time to think, it is what he will do.

Loki crosses his arms and something oddly soft touches his expression. "Taken care of. You don't give your brother near enough credit. None of you do." The last is whispered, but Castiel knows every last word rings true. He cannot hear Heaven, but he can still feel the earth, dimly, and all the sickness that has been growing for the last few years is slowly dissipating.

Lucifer is dead. Micheal didn't do it. They wouldn't still be standing here if he had.

"The Winchesters-?"

"Alive."

"Okay." Because he wants to talk to his brother, maybe the only one that _will_ talk to him, and he wants to know why his vessel is leaking wetness all over his face. Loki touches his shoulder briefly, a healing warmth goes through him to kindle a spark of grace that somehow, someway, has managed to cling to him through it all and Castiel shudders. Loki moves over to a closet and begins taking out Castiel's -Jimmy's- clothing and laying it out.

"First," Loki comments as Castiel struggles into his clothing, "I want to test a theory. You are the angel-" The godling waves his hand to cut off any self-depreciating comments Castiel's spite might cause him to make. "Of Thursday, correct?" Castiel nods. "Then we need to make a pit stop in New Mexico. _My_ brother has recently made an ass of himself, which opens up the most intriguing opportunity. Truly. I know it won't get you your angel magicks back, but it will make you more than formidable."

Castiel gets the impression that Loki thinks of angels in a similar vein to how Dean thinks of them. Dicks. Possibly stupid dicks, too. Somehow the idea soothes him, and as Castiel puts his arm through his coat sleeve and curiously follows Loki through a hole in space-time, he thinks things just might work out.

Whatever Loki and Gabriel expect him to do with the big hammer he retrieves from a human outpost, he has no idea.

End.


	2. Three Against Three Thousand Part One

**Three Against Three Thousand (1/3).**

****Characters: Loki, Gabriel, Castiel. Avengers, Fury, Coulson. Sam, Dean. Pairing: One sided Tony/Loki. ****

**Disclaimer: Thor, and all related characters of the Marvel Universe go to Marvel. Supernatural and all related characters belong to the CW and Eric Kripke.**

The thing, the _thing_ was... "Dolphins." Loki muttered as he lifted his bottle and watched the lights dance in the colored glass. "Dolphins is what I'm talking about. He's like a bloody dolphin. Everyone's like, _oh, he's so cute with his bottle-nose, and look! He just fucked up that shark! How clever! Right for the gills!_ It's 'cause he squeaks. And he swims around battling those... those... beach balls around. They don't _see_. They don't _know_. I know..."

Loki tipped his head back and downed the rest of the bottle. Across from him, surrounded by his own small sea of empty beer cans and vodka bottles, Castiel blinked confusedly. Loki thought he was rather cute like that. Like a puppy, maybe a cocker spaniel, but definitely not a dolphin. "Are we still talking about your brother?"

"No!" Loki hissed, snapping his fingers and causing the freezer to swing open as a case of Smirnoff to fly out. He wedged the cap under a bit of decorative plate armor and popped it off, grimacing at the horrid flavor of the beer before quickly chugging the rest. That was the thing about Midgardian Ale. It all tasted like horse piss -and don't ask, because yes Loki had tasted horse piss before and didn't want to discuss the matter- but what it lacked in flavor it made up for in sheer toxicity. Mead may be great with dinner, but one had to drink gallons upon gallons of the stuff before you could work up a proper buzz.

What were they talking about again? Oh, yes... "That, that buffoon is NOT my brother." He opened another bottle. "He's like... like... a dolphin, following the great ship that is me, but everyone is too busy looking at his wavy hair and gorilla arms to notice who's carrying their fat asses through the storm."

"I think you may be taking that simile a little too far, bro." Gabriel offered from where he was having his feet massaged by a red headed woman in a string bikini. He reached behind his head and grabbed a cupcake from the snack shelf.

"You!" Loki pointed with the hand holding his drink, expression pinched. "You, are a squirrel. One of those funny little ones with the built in capes. I always liked those."

Castiel snort-giggled and fell over, hugging a dark blue bottle to his stomach. Loki grinned. At least _someone_ appreciated his insight. He turned back to Gabriel, who was licking the cream filling from his fingers, and squinted. Why would the angel make a duplicate of himself? And how did he manage it without the slightest bit of magical bleed off...

Oh.

OH.

Loki blinked and took in all the dead soldiers around him. "This was a, a really good plan, Cas. My fingers are all tingly."

"You two are going to have wicked hangovers in the morning." Gabriel smirked, snapping his fingers and summoning cordial candies from the firmament. Loki snorted. He could do that if he wanted to, but it always felt a little like cheating...

"Asgardians don't get hangovers."

"And as I been telling you for the last twenty-five hundred years, you aren't Asgardian."

Loki sniffed. He just _had_ to rub it in. Well. If their positions were reversed -and they had been, once- he would be doing the same. "I'm fairly certain Jotun don't get them, either. Or maybe they don't drink? No... that can't be right... there's no such thing as a warrior society without alcohol..."

Gabriel coughed and pointed to Cas, who was staring interestedly at his fingers. Which were glowing. It was a good thing the store owner was happily knocked out in the storage closet.

"...I stand corrected. Which also goes to prove your family is just as screwed up as mine."

"I thought they weren't your family? Lying baby nappers and all that?"

Loki threw his bottle at the man, but not before charming it to glitter on impact. Gabriel gagged as the air filled with sparkles. He motioned to banish the stuff, but Loki cackled and countered him, causing the shiny flecks to gravitate like a small solar system of particulates around a Gabriel sun. Fire giants. Heh.

His victory didn't last long. The angel snapped his fingers, the sound covering the whispered magic words, and the lumps of floating glitter merged and transformed into a two-layer cake, complete with whipped topping.

"I'm just glad it's all over." Gabriel sighed, good mood impossible to shake as he savored his sweets and summoned some schnapps. "The mess with my family. The drama with yours. I told you! Faking death solves _everything_. Finally, we can sit back and be the lazy assholes we've always wanted to be, and not a zombie in sight!"

"Draugr?" Loki questioned, because those could be a bitch, and the word seemed to rouse Castiel from his drunken trance.

"Dean mentioned zombies when Zachariah cast him into the future." The poor dear was trying to focus, but this was their third -third time's the charm- liquor store of the night and the both of them were more than a bit impaired. Gabriel had eased off, claiming that as much as he hated it _someone_ had to be responsible and as funny as it would be no little brother was going to fly into the sun on _his_ watch. No matter how pretty it looked.

Gabriel fidgeted. "Well, when I went to peek ahead, you know, see how goes..." Loki set his drink down and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. More than one group could see the future, the Norns being the most famous, but only angels were stupid enough to _go_ there. The problem was there were _so_ _many_ possible futures, without proper preparation and precautions one could get lost, or stuck in one of those self-fulfilling prophecy time loop thingies and become their own grandpa or some such... "There were a lot that looked like Lucy had staged his own world wide showing of 28 Days later. It was creepy, and not-fun, but I figure since he's... gone... that won't be happening. Haven't seen any Croats yet."

Castiel had his eyebrows pinched together. "I... don't understand that reference."

"You're not the only one, Cassikins." Loki raised his hand, much like a student in a classroom. "Gabriel! Am I to... to understand that there is a potential Nifa, Nife, Niflheim incursion of, of Midgard?"

Gabriel shrugged as if to say, _how the fuck am I supposed to know the plans of my deceased psychotic brother?_ Loki bobbed his head in concession, but even though the general had been taken out of the equation his lieutenants could still be about. Except... except Lillith had died freeing him, and Crowley was confirmed to be happy where he was, the skank was shanked, and the whore... "The Whore?"

"Dean staked her." Castiel supplied helpfully while frowning a mysterious stain on his coat into non-existence.

"Ah."

Loki frowned and stared at buzzing lights. Wasn't there one named Meg? And someone else... the horsemen, some of them, were still wandering around. Anthropomorphic personifications could be a _bitch_. Maybe this whole binge drinking thing hadn't been a good idea. It certainly felt like something his not-brother would do.

There wasn't much Loki liked, but then again there wasn't a whole lot he hated, either. Loki tended to feel rather luke-warm about most things, and status quo was something that could use shaking up but not something he felt the need to crusade and change. But Midgard was his home-away-from-home, the place he'd snuck off too when not-father was being a bigger douche -Gabriel's words, not his- than usual. He had fought on her shores and defended her fields. He'd walked among her people and partaken of her bounty.

Midgard was where Gabriel was. Castiel, too, and if he tried not to not think about it Thor seemed to be making her his new base of operations.

"Shall we hunt out the source of this plague, then, and teach the progenitor a lesson in humility?" As he spoke, slightly slurred speech or no, he smirked. It was infectious.


	3. Three Against Three Thousand Part Two

**Note: The text in his section was brought to you by a mash up of entries from 'Texts from Last Night'. Also, Dean is a bad influence.**

"...Sammy?"

"Dean?" Sam Winchester asked, voice muffled from his pillow.

"I think I just got a drunk text from Cas."

"What?"

"Check it. 'I feel like God wrote up a contract of my life, and I just signed off without reading the fine print. At this point, it's go big or go home.'"

"Oh. Shit. Call Bobby."

"On it."

* * *

><p>Castiel squinted at the main R&amp;D branch of Niveus Pharmaceuticals which, to his eyes, was lit up like Vegas what with all the anti-angel warding sunk into it. Once they had known what to look for, spotting the den of devilry from space was easy as one of Dean's beloved slices of pie. It was like the Great Wall of Weird Shit. "Devious demons are devious."<p>

"Nice alliteration." Loki complimented while checking his skirt. He had shifted into the form of a young girl at Gabriel's suggestion and, being at home in whatever age/gender he chose, Loki found the whole idea extremely amusing. After all, when in Midgard... He manifested a black mask and slipped it over his eyes.

"Now, Lo', you remember the plan?" Gabriel asked while handing Castiel a carton of cigarettes to 'complete the ensemble'.

Loki fluffed his new violet hair with a sniff. "If I wasn't drunk I'd be insulted!" He then checked his knives, manipulating them with a dexterity that would leave any mortal at his current level of inebriation a bloody mess. Loki, however, was raised in Asgard where fighting while impaired was an Olympic Sport. "Go in, fuck the wards with the blood of our enemies, then burn it to the ground. Correct?"

Gabriel beamed. A cherry blow-pop knocked against his teeth as waggled his fingers in a _'get going'_ motion. Loki whirled around, wobbled for a moment as the repercussions of condensing all the alcohol he'd consumed into a smaller body made themselves known, and headed for the doors. He only almost tripped.

Loki gestured imperiously, and the doors to the highly secured facility flew open on a peppermint smelling wind. Loki felt his cute little mouth stretch into a trickster's grin, teeth sharp, as the security guards' eyes became puddles of foul smelling tar. The two men stood and raised their hands as if pushing an invisible wall. The scent of power and brimstone filled the lobby. The small pagan stumbled a little as a wave of psychic energy slammed into him, but he shook it off with a bloody mindedness only equaled by rabid squirrel in June.

So far as the demons knew, only one species was capable of such effortless magic manipulation. Then again, if the hell-borne had inherited anything from their deceased creator it was pride. They didn't see the need to learn of anything else that went bump in the night, or what bumped back. "How is she in here? Angels can't-"

"I'm no angel." Loki leapt the distance and swung his new bladed staff, giggling as it cut through the fleshy shell to ignite the demon inside.

* * *

><p>When Tony's communicator went off and Captain America's voice rumbled out in appalled undertones of, "Avengers, assemble," Tony had expected something like Doctor Doom attacking an orphanage for lab subjects or something. He didn't expect a little girl, who according to Thor was not a little girl at all, to be attacking one of the few hold-outs in ground breaking medical research that Stark Industries had yet to gain a majority of shares. JARVIS uploaded the latest data feed and stock numbers, but for the life of him Iron Man couldn't figure out why any villain would march against Niveus. They specialized in influenza vaccinations, for Christ's sake, and it was in a large part due to their efforts that the pandemic of 1918 hadn't been repeated.<p>

"Brother!" Thor exclaimed, floating up to the roof of the building covered in green flames. At first Tony had thought the color was caused by burning, and most likely toxic, chemicals but after JARVIS scanned the surrounding air he nixed that idea. Comparative analysis had, however, revealed odd similarities between the fire, the energy blasts the girl was throwing around like Mardi Gras beads, and Thor's hammer shaped security blanket. "We thought you taken by the Void, stop this and we can return to Asgard. The healers can-"

"SHUT UP, THOR!" The purple garbed girl screamed, and suddenly instead of a highly destructive magical girl stood a tall, dark, tasty looking drink of water wielding a scepter of Goldshluager. She -he- was still wearing the skirt, though, and it left Tony wondering how sure Thor was of his brother's... brother-y ness. The guy had a very nice pair of toned legs that went forever, and the now emerald shirt and skirt combo brought out the deliciously drunken man's eyes. Tony was grateful for the change, partly because he appreciated all sexes, races, and genders, and partly because it had been damned _awkward_ firing repulsor blasts at a ten year old. "I DO WHAT I WANT!"

Loki, as their Norse Mythology consultant informed them over the communicators, made a cutting motion with the cinnamon spiced drink which _somehow_ caused a spike of energy that sent Hawkeye's trio of arrows back at the archer. From JARVIS's continual scans, it looked as if the crazed god was using the gold flakes floating in the red liquid as an energy focus.

Tony was suddenly thankful for his armor, because he was starting to reconsider his _magic is stupid_ stance. The look on Pepper's face when he insisted to classify his wine cabinet as an armory... and damn but no man should be that flexible. Tony sucked in an impressed breath as Loki twisted and flipped to avoid a thrown hammer, shield, and what might have been a hand grenade. Though Tony wasn't sure where that last had come from.

A rumble of thunder and the accompanying crackle of lightning dragged Iron Man back to the fight at hand. "Loki! Please, there are no warriors here, simply scholars and healers! Whatever grievance you have take it up with me. The Midgardians are no threat to you. This, this is madness!"

Tony winced as a new figure walked out onto the roof from the building. The trench coat whirled dramatically around the arrivals legs as he took one last drag from a cigarette and flicked it to the flames. His growl cut through the sounds of battle, and the actions that followed warmed what passed for Tony's heart. The Iron Man was incredibly, incredibly glad that everything was being recorded, for posterity's sake if nothing else.

"No." Blue eyed and scruffy bit out as he began a purposeful march that turned to a run at Thor's hovering position. "This. Is. SPARTA!"

* * *

><p>"I'll drink to that!" A bar patron laughed while ordering another shot. After the call to Bobby, luckily the old hunter was such a night owl, he'd ordered the boys to find a TV, and after rushing to check out of their motel room a bar was their best bet. Sam and Dean were regular patrons of the less refined establishments, and so found it oddly endearing that the local populace would gather around the pub's only TV to play an Avengers drinking game.<p>

"You know, that was entirely your fault." Sam huffed as the live helicopter broadcast showed Thor getting kicked in the chest by an angel -not that anyone else knew that- and crushing someone's car on the landing. Everyone watching took a shot for personal property damage. Including the Winchesters. Dean decided he liked the game.

"Hey," Dean defended. "It was for morale. Small numbers against impossible odds, you know?"

"They all _died_ at Thermopylae, Dean."

There was another shot to be had when Captain America threw his shield, in fact there was a shot for every surface it bounced off of.

"Yeah, well, it wasn't like _we_ had any great plans to survive." Dean opened his mouth to say more, but was cut off as one of the rowdier patrons called out 'fresh face' and everyone ordered more pretzels. Dean couldn't decide if he should be horrified or amused when Gabriel snapped his fingers and summoned an army of winged monkeys. On the one hand, it was Gabriel. On the other, it wasn't Dean. And they were monkeys, with _wings_. "And besides, their sacrifice allowed the rest of Greece to get their act together, right?"

Sam frowned but didn't contend with Dean's logic. On some things, his older brother was worse than their dad. "Huh." Sam hummed in thought as Castiel held out his hand, into which Mjolnir flew with barley a pause. Thor was gaping like a fish, going red, which in typical Cas fashion the angel ignored. Lightning struck both sides of the renegade messenger, highlighting awesome black, shadowy wings.

"Yoink." TV Cas said with a seriousness that made Dean feel warm and fuzzy inside. It reminded him of a little of when Cas showed up like the fucking cavalry and lightning zapped Alistair away. (He just wouldn't think of what happened after.)

More lightning.

Everyone took a shot


	4. Three Against Three Thousand Part Three

**Three Against Three Thousand - Final Part.  
><strong>

The audio was off -Fury really didn't need to hear it a second time- while salvaged black and white security footage played on a flat screen on the wall. Most of Niveus' interior had been reduced to barely recognizable slag. SHIELD's experts claimed that the fire had started in the labs, of which there wasn't even a petrie dish left, and spread from there. Surprisingly, a handful of pharmaceutical company's night shift had appeared in the local hospital emergency room. Unsurprisingly, none of them could explain _how_ they had gotten there.

The last thing most of them remembered were the alarms going off, and sick, half-sane laughter. One of them kept apologizing every time someone tried to get close to him, and had to be restrained to prevent him scrubbing at skin he had already washed to a blistered, tender rawness.

Nick Fury mused on cultural differences as the door opened to admit his go-between with the Avengers. Phil Coulson had his mask in place, a pleasantly blank expression that hid everything but oozed competence. Not even the slaughter on the television got so much as an 'eww' out of him. "Sir."

Fury gestured for the agent to take a seat. He looked down at the various reports that had been coming in from his post-battle clean up crew. While it was true the fire raged in the labs and destroyed any and all samples, the techs had found some protected hard drives that had been stored separately. Fury briefly wondered if Niveus' president and CEO had been aware of their existence, but when a report came in reporting his death -found in the middle of a cultist symbol that his researches were already running through the databases- SHIELD's director decided he must have.

Fury tossed Coulson a medical report on what had been tentatively labeled as _croatoan_ in the rescued disks. "Take a look. Seems Niveus wasn't exactly on the up and up."

Coulson's eyebrows lowered as he took in the abstract; he didn't care about the how or the why, but the _what_. "Is this possible?"

"I borrowed some of Stark's guys to run some simulations. It is entirely possible." He then gestured to the screen behind the agent, and Coulson turned to observe as the film began again from the start. Two men in lab coats where discussing something urgently, the hand gestures gave it away, and then a third walked in with a frown. Words where exchanged, a beaker brandished, and then the third guy laughed as his eyes filled with a pitch black smoke.

"Mutant?" Coulson inquired as the tape continued to show the black eyed man holding down one doctor and injecting him with something, then the other. The unknown then left the room, locking it, as the original two tried to regain their bearings. They pounded on the door for several minutes -Fury fast forwarded- but then started shaking and, turning on each other, made the small lab into their own Jackson Pollock canvas.

Niveus' duplicity didn't end there. More 'trial runs' had been recorded like prized snuff videos, interns had been reported disappeared because they 'couldn't handle the stress', and Fury had already conferred with the FBI and CIA to discover several whole towns who's populations had seemingly vanished overnight - coincidentally after receiving a shipment of free flu vaccinations.

It made one _think_. It made Fury line up everything he knew about Thor's brother, and Thor himself, from mythological tales to the opinions of psychological profilers.

Thor claimed Loki was dangerous, unstable, and lied like others breathed. He had manipulated events to get Thor banished -never mind that it was entirely Thor's idea to go to another sovereign nation and cause a diplomatic incident- taken control of his government, again manipulated events to justify his murder of the previously mentioned nation's ruler and triggered a WMD to wipe out the rival nation, which Thor had stopped. Then the mischief god capped it all off by staging his own death in such a way that _no one_, not even the supposed all-seeing celestial gatekeeper, thought he could survive.

It was rather beautiful, really, from an intelligence perspective.

Fury knew that Thor was nothing like his brother. The god of thunder -father being the _god of berserkers_- was a bruiser. A tank. He followed his heart and while generally in the right place, or at least where Fury wanted it, the Asgardian didn't think much beyond the basics. Jane Foster was working on that, though, as well as Steve Rogers.

Fury knew a lot more about the archetype of the Trickster: he had whole binders devoted to the subject. For one thing, you would be hard pressed to find a culture that didn't have them. For another, Tricksters weren't considered evil, and whatever anyone else claimed the vikings, at no point, classified Loki as evil. Mischievous. The last and most salient point: Tricksters existed to humble the prideful. They pricked egos. They taught painful -sometimes deadly- lessons. Even gods needed a reminder that they weren't infallible.

Thor getting his first born entitled ass kicked out of the house certainly fell into that category.

"Would you like me to inform Thor?" Coulson asked, closing the damning folder.

Fury leaned back in his chair and nodded.

From what he understood of Jotunhiem, not that Thor was very forthcoming, the two worlds had been at war off and on for over a thousand years. Almost all of Thor and Loki's lives, and after the enemy takes an opportunity to off your father/king... Fury didn't condone it, but he _understood_ it. No one would say that Nagasaki and Hiroshima was the _right_ thing to do, but at the time...

"And Coulson?" Fury asked as the agent paused in the doorway. "Make sure the Avengers know, if they see Loki they are not to engage. Report it in, but under _no_ circumstances is there to be hostile action taken against him."

As the door closed, Fury let contentment fill him. If Asgard didn't want their spymaster, SHIELD would be more than happy to take him.

* * *

><p>Tony cornered Thor outside the training room. Ever since having his hammer napped the god had thrown himself into sword drills and wrestling. Apparently Mjolnir going missing wasn't uncommon, and after the last time it happened papa Odin had done some magics meant to <em>prevent<em> such things. Which meant Thor was feeling all out of sorts and taking it out on the SHIELD agents.

Iron Man zeroed in on the god with smile that would send rabid mountain lions running for cover. "Thor, buddy!" The billionaire exclaimed as he wrapped an arm around the blonde and steered him toward a break room. "We have _got_ to talk."

"Of what, Stark? You have made it quite clear proper training isn't something you enjoy."

Tony waved his hand as if clearing a bad smell from the air. Once they were safely in the break room, the Iron Man locked the door and crossed his arms with his smile still in place. Captain America and Black Widow were also in the room, sipping cocoa, as if they had been waiting. Thor smiled in greeting and turned to face Tony.

"You need to apologize to your sister." Tony stated.

Thor frowned. "I don't have a sister, Tony."

Steve sighed. "Loki, Thor, he means Loki."

A confused sort of understanding dawned. "Ah. You are mistaken, Iron Man. Though Loki has been known to tumble with warriors and give birth to horrors, he is my brother. Prone to moodiness and trickery, true, so I do not blame you for your mistake. His... performance at the Niveus Sorcerer's lair was most convincing."

Natasha huffed, looking thoughtful. "So he _is_ the mother of a horse?"

Thor laughed. "Not Sleipnir, no, but a great monstrous snake and deadly wolf, yes. But you need not concern yourselves with them. My nephews are well in hand. Jormungandr was banished to Midgard long ago, patrolling your oceans and seas, while Fenris remains chained and incapable of harming others."

Tony's eyes lit with a dark gleam. "Can _you_ give birth, Thor? Is it some quirk of Asgardian biology?"

"Never! I am a man, only women-folk can bring new life into the world. Surely you know this, is it not the same in Midgard?"

"And yet, Loki is your _brother_?"

"I have already said this, Stark." Thor growled as he began to get annoyed with the circles their conversation was taking.

Black Widow propped her chin in her hands and stared at Thor, fascinated. "Does he not hear the contradictions coming out of his mouth?"

Captain America Frowned. He stood up from his seat, and his cupcakes, and crossed the room to place his hands on Thor's shoulders. "I'm beginning to understand why your... brother... is so irritated with you. Thor. I say this as a friend and... and battle-brother. Buy Loki some flowers-"

"And chocolates! JARVIS said tricksters have a ridiculous sweet tooth!" Tony added helpfully.

"-and chocolates. Then say you're sorry. It doesn't matter what _you_ think you've done. What matters is what _Loki_ thinks. Trust me. I know women."

"Loki is a-"

"Don't say it!" Tony cut him off, marching forward, a man on a mission. "I don't care what sex Loki is or isn't. She can have babies, has great legs, and if those shape-shifting rumors are true can manifest breasts of any size. So that's good enough for me. You will apologize, grovel if you have to, and once you've kissed and made up you are going to _introduce me to your sister_."

Thor didn't know what to say to that, so he nodded quietly.

* * *

><p>"Loki!" Gabriel shouted cheerily as he bounced into his Parisian sitting room. The Norse god of Mischief -capital M- was spread out on a couch that matched his outfit. He looked up over the tips of yellow-tinted glasses and arched an eyebrow.<p>

"Yes?"

"Presents!"

Loki tensed. "Who would be sending me tribute? And how do they know I'm here?"

Gabriel waved off his concerns. "They don't. They just sent them to one of your temples in the Old Country. I stopped by to pick them up when the priest was trying to figure out if it was appropriate to burn electronics for celestial sending."

Loki accepted the flowers with confusion, but remembered to conjure a vase, and smiled at the chocolate. He ripped off the wrapping and moaned as the bitter sweetness hit his tongue. Not quite as good as Gabriel's theobroma, but close. Very close. "Who sent it?"

"...your brother," Loki scowled, but didn't stop eating the candy.

"What's this, then?" The god asked after fishing out a small metal contraption from a sea of tissue paper. It was green and gold, with a flat plastic screen and had runes artfully inscribed along the edges. With a flash it turned on, and Loki began poking at the buttons interestedly.

"Hmm. Looks like a Starkphone, but smaller. And personalized."

"It seems that one 'Tony Stark - Iron Man' is already in the directory. Speed dial one." Loki said with amusement. "As well as 'Steve Rogers - Captain America', 'Bruce - Green Rage Monster' and 'Nick Motherfucking Fury'. Do you know these people?"

"Yeah. Fury is your Thor's boss, Bruce is the ogre you were flirting with in Canada, Rogers is the man you buried in jello, and Stark is the one that fell over when you accused Thor of having retractable genitalia."

"..."

"I know, right?"

* * *

><p>"Cas?" Dean asked hesitantly as his libido sat up and took notice. The Black Widow popped into Bobby's living room, only it couldn't be the notorious Avenger because this Widow was wearing a long tan trench coat and expression that was all angel. "Uh, did you go shopping for a new vessel?"<p>

The widow blinked, then her eyes widened comically. "No, my apologies." Eyes closed in concentration, and Dean relaxed as the female form melted to reveal a familiar man. "I forgot to slip the glamour."

"So..."

"Yes?"

"Why were you a girl?"

Castiel blushed and fidgeted. Dean shook his head and headed for the kitchen. He needed a beer. At least it promised to be an interesting story.

End Part Three.

**Note: This is it! No more! The 'verse is finished!**


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